“Sit,” he ordered. “And go easy on that.”
“Yes, sir, Colonel, sir.”
Clete smiled tolerantly.
“You ever notice, Jimmy, that when you really need a drink you can’t have one? God knows, after that goddamned dinner we’re both entitled to drain the bottle.”
Clete went to his luggage and pulled out a zippered leather envelope. He took from it an inch-thick sheath of papers, walked to Jimmy, and handed it to him.
“Sign where indicated.”
“What the hell is this, Clete?”
“On top is what they call a Limited Power of Attorney. It gives former Kapitän zur See Karl Boltitz of the Kriegsmarine the necessary authority to do all that he has to do to manage certain property of yours in Midland County, Texas.”
“What the hell are you talking about? My father has my power of attorney to run all the property I own.”
“I know. But as soon as the probate judge of Midland County, Texas, is satisfied that you were in fact married to the former Marjorie Ann Howell, you’ll own a lot more.”
Jimmy looked at him for a long time before replying, his voice on the edge of breaking, “I don’t think I ever knew it was ‘Marjorie Ann.’”
“It was. And under the laws of the Sovereign State of Texas, upon the demise of the said Marjorie Ann Howell Cronley, all of her property passed to her lawful husband, one James Davenport Cronley Junior.”
“Oh, shit!”
“Said property—the details are in those papers—includes two sections of land, including the mineral rights thereto, in Midland County, plus some cash in the First National Bank of Midland, including about two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars, representing her most recent quarterly dividend from the Howell Petroleum Corporation. And of course her Howell Petroleum stock. And some more. It’s all in there.”
“I don’t want any of it,” Jimmy said.
“You don’t have any choice.”
“Oh, God!”
“When the Old Man handed this to me, he said to tell you two things.”
“Really?”
“He said to tell you that everyone who matters knows you’d much rather have the Squirt and two dollars than this inheritance, but that’s the way the ball has bounced. And he said to tell you never to forget that for every dollar a rich man has, there are at least three dishonest sonsofbitches plotting to steal it from him.”
Jimmy wiped a tear from his cheek with a knuckle.
“That sounds like the Old Man,” he said, his voice breaking. Then he said, “Where does Boltitz fit in all this?”
“Very neatly. For one thing, he’s about to be your brother-in-law.”
“He’s going to marry Beth?”
Frade nodded.
“Yeah. You saw them. We can’t keep throwing cold water on them.”
Jimmy laughed.
“The Old Man told Beth they should take a page from you and the Squirt and elope. I thought Mom was going to kill him. What they’ll probably do is have a quiet wedding in Midland, and fuck what people say. Or a big one in Argentina—that’s what Dorotea was trying to sell when I left. Anyway, he’s going to be family, and since he’s out of a job, there being no demand for U-boat skippers, he’s going to need one. The Old Man is impressed with him and he told me—privately—that he’s thinking of putting him in charge of his tanker operations.
“In the meantime, Karl can learn about the family business under the watchful eyes of Mom, Beth, and your dad. Understand?”
“Makes sense.”